Luck
by ShakespeareFreak
Summary: Sidney Prescott was always the lucky one. (Sequel to "In Your Arms." Contains Spoilers for all four Scream films.)


**DISCLAIMER:** _Scream_ Quadrilogy and all related characters, settings, and situations belong to Kevin Williamson, Wes Craven, and Dimension Films. This is a not-for-profit work. I am not making any money, nor am I attempting to negatively affect the market for any of the materials shown, or take proceeds from their creators, but rather to expand the fanbase and keep the pre-existing fanbase strong.

 **RATING: T** (for dark themes, coarse language, violence/gore, and character death)

 **SHIPS:** Sidney Prescott x Randy Meeks

 **CHARACTERS FEATURED:** Sidney Prescott, Randy Meeks, Jill Roberts, other _Scream_ characters, background OCs

 **SPOILER WARNING:** Contains Spoilers for all four _Scream_ films

 **Sequel to "In Your Arms"**

* * *

 **Luck**

Sidney Prescott was always the lucky one.

When Billy and Stu had murdered all those people, including her best friend Tatum, and tried to do the same to her, it wasn't anything special about her that kept her alive. Not really. She wasn't smarter than those that died, or stronger, or braver, or a better person. She wasn't even a virgin. She was just… lucky.

So yeah, she was tricked into having sex with the man who butchered her mother. And yeah, seeing Tatum's mutilated corpse in that garage door was one of the worst moments of her life. Yeah, she got blood on her hands and on her soul when she electrocuted Stu, when she shot Billy. Yeah, the nightmares kept her up at night. But she was alive. So… lucky. Right?

The second time around, maybe she'd learned a little something, true. She'd learned not to trust people. She'd learned how to run and dodge and block. She'd learned Randy's Rules. She'd learned to trust her instincts. She'd learned that she was a survivor.

But still, other people knew a lot of that stuff. Like her new friend Hallie (knifed repeatedly in the chest). Hallie had way more sense than her. She'd told Sid to run, but no, Sidney had gone back to the car, because she _had_ to see who was hiding behind that mask. And yet, there it was. Hallie was dead. And she was alive. Lucky.

Like her boyfriend, Derek (shot in the heart). Derek might not have been the brightest guy out there, but he wasn't stupid, either… he was studying to be a doctor, for Christ's sake! And he was strong, and brave, and kind. And he was dead, his last words a proclamation of his love for her. And she'd lived. Luck.

Like Randy Meeks.

Randy had been the guy who knew all the Rules. The film geek, he knew horror movies like the back of his hand. So when they started living in one, he was the one who got everyone else through. He was the one she'd always counted on to be there.

He was the one who backed up against the wrong van at the wrong moment. The one who was stabbed until his lifeblood covered him and the floor of the van and dripped out onto the pavement when they found his cooling body.

Yes, Randy had known all the Rules. But it still hadn't saved him.

 _It should've been me…_

And instead of joining him, she had stalled Mickey until Mrs. Loomis shot him. She had fought Billy's mother until Cotton had had time to shoot _her_.

Or what about the time that her half-brother Roman used the filming of _Stab 3_ to murder all the actors? Cotton had fallen that time, stabbed straight through the heart while defending his girlfriend. And so many others, most of them fleeting faces, killed before she even had a chance to know them. Names attached to the faces: Angelina Tyler, Sarah Darling, Steven Stone, Tom Prinze, Tyson Fox…

And she'd lived, once again. She'd stabbed Roman with an ice pick, then shot him through the forehead when he still hadn't stopped. Her own brother. He had been sick, hurting... he'd just needed help. Needed love, and family, and acceptance. But he hadn't stopped, and it was clear that he would _never_ stop. So she'd done what she needed to do.

 _Lucky, lucky me._

And then she got _really_ lucky, because she finally got a break. Ten whole years.

Ten years to become an author with her self-help book _, Out of Darkness_. Ten years to mourn. Ten years to loathe herself.

Ten years to figure out that she'd been in love with Randy Meeks.

She'd known that Randy was in love with her, but she'd never given him a chance. Freshman year in high school he'd asked her out. She could've said yes. But all she had seen was the little socially awkward kid, the one no one really talks to. And even after they became friends, he'd never asked again.

Not that he hadn't wanted to. Because she'd seen the way he stared when he thought she wouldn't notice. And the way he talked about her to their friends always got back to her (it _was_ high school, after all). But he'd wanted to respect her, and so he'd never asked again.

 _Maybe if he'd asked once more… maybe if he'd pushed me a_ little _harder…_

But no. Randy had done the right thing: no pleading, no pressure, no guilt. This was her fault, not his. Because she'd _known._ And she'd seen how sweet he was, and how smart, and how loyal. And sometimes she'd catch herself staring at _him_ when _he_ wasn't looking.

But she'd also seen his immaturity; and his awkward way of talking, rambling on and on; and the way his slightly pointed ears stuck out more than they should from his thin face. And she just couldn't picture herself with a guy like that. So she pretended that she didn't secretly think that those ears were cute; that his sardonic grin didn't make her heart beat faster; that his ice-blue eyes, cold and clear and beautiful, didn't make her melt.

She'd dated guys like bad-boy Billy, with Johnny Depp cheekbones and James Dean machismo. Guys like Derek, strong and secure and safe, with his round arms and barrel chest that did nothing for her.

And now Randy was dead, and it was too late.

 _All I ever wanted…_

And ten years later, it had started all over again.

She was back in Woodsboro, promoting her book. The police had stormed the bookstore, led by her old friend Dewey Riley… another lucky survivor. They had tracked a cell phone to the vicinity—the cell phone used to call the two latest victims. They'd found it in the trunk of Sid's rental, along with pictures of her, smeared in the victims' blood.

She'd had to stay in Woodsboro after that. She was, technically, a suspect. She chose to stay with her aunt Kate and teenaged cousin, Jill.

Jill reminded Sidney so much of herself at that age. She was strong, and trusted her gut. She was a survivor. She even _looked_ like Sid. So it really came as no surprise when Jill's friends started dying all around her.

What _was_ a surprise was that Jill was the one behind the mask.

It turned out Jill wanted what Sidney had, what Sidney had never asked for. To be a survivor. To be a hero. Growing up in the shadow of her cousin's fame, Jill's mind had become warped and twisted. And finally, she'd decided that if hero status wouldn't come to her, she'd take it by force. She'd enlisted a boy named Charlie, a film geek, a social outcast _(oh, Randy)_ , to help her bring back Ghostface. And because Charlie loved Jill, just as a film geek had once loved Sidney, oh so long ago… he'd done it. Together, they hacked and slashed and shot and stabbed their way to Sidney… and then, Jill betrayed and murdered him.

Then, she turned to Sidney.

As Jill stabbed her and she slid into a deep, endless void, what Sidney felt most was a sense of relief. _It's over… the pain can stop now…_

And then, something happened as she lay in the infinite blackness.

She heard Randy's voice.

 _Hi, Sid. Long time no see._ She could hear that familiar grin in his voice, though she could see nothing but black.

 _Oh god, Randy!_ she sobbed. _I am so, so sorry…_

 _That's okay, Sid._

 _But it's gonna be all right, now. I'll see you again! You, and Tatum, and Hallie…_

 _NO!_ The force in Randy's voice startled her. _Sidney, you've gotta live. You've gotta fight!_

 _But…_

 _"But" nothing, Sidney. You've got to fight it! The Sidney Prescott I know doesn't give up!_

 _I'm so tired of fighting, Randy…_

 _Gale and Dewey are in danger, Sid._

Sidney started, and in the hospital bed where she lay, she moaned slightly. Her eyelids moved briefly as her eyes flickered behind them.

 _You've gotta save them, Sidney. Just hold on. Please._

 _But… I love you…_

There was a pause, and she could almost see Randy's blue eyes widening in her mind. Finally, he spoke again. _Sidney, please live. For me._

 _But—_

 _Sidney, you need to wake up now._ There was a new note of urgency in his voice.

 _I don't want to! I just want to be with you!_

 _Sidney! Sidney,_ _ **WAKE UP!**_

At the last words, she started awake, his shout echoing in her mind. Jill stood over her. "You just won't die, will you?"

In Sidney's later memories, the next few minutes were only a blur of fear and pain. Through the blur, images and sensations: The cold tiles of the hospital floor. The acrid smell of burning hair. A bang, the noise of a bullet hitting flesh. And Jill was dead.

All that was five years ago.

And now it seemed that Sidney's luck had finally run out. She lay inside her upturned car, struggling to stay awake. She could see the sky, calm and untroubled, through one of the shattered windows. She could see the yellowing autumn grass outside. She could see the blood spatters on her arm.

The other car had come out of nowhere, on the lonely highway. She hadn't even seen the driver. Maybe they'd been drunk. All she knew was that suddenly, the blue Honda had been in her lane, going the wrong way, and before she'd had time to react, the crash had come.

Was the other driver injured? Were they dead? Or had they just kept going? She had no idea. But no one came to help her.

She almost wanted to laugh. _The great Sidney Prescott, the hero, the fighter, the survivor, and in the end it's just a stupid car crash._

But still she struggled against the darkness that threatened to swallow her. She was so _tired_ … she just wanted to sleep. It _hurt_ not to sleep. But she kept on hearing his voice in her memory.

 _Sidney, please live._

 _Randy, I'll try…_ she thought.

 _Sidney, please live. For me._

The hours passed and the sunset lit the sky outside with orange and red and gold. She held on, though her head was throbbing and she felt something dripping down her face and into her eyes... maybe her skull was fractured. She held on, though each shuddering breath was like a knife in her lungs, and somehow she wasn't getting enough air. She held on, though her right arm was on fire, and she could feel the broken bone pushing through the torn flesh. She held on, as the sky turned from orange to grey.

No one was coming. She was by the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere, and it could be hours or days before anyone else drove by. But she held on. _For him._

She kept expecting to hear an engine stop, to hear shoes crunching on the gravel, to see a shocked face in the window. For her luck to hold.

But all she heard was the wind whistling through the broken glass, cold on her skin, as dusk began to darken into night.

"Please…" she whispered aloud to the cosmos, her voice shuddering with effort. _I need to live, for him. For all of them. Live the life they never had._

Time passed in an eternity of pain. And when she spoke again, her voice was weak and hoarse.

This time, she spoke to _him._

"Randy…" she said haltingly. "I'm sorry, but I don't think anybody's coming." There were tears in her voice. She was amazed how _young_ she sounded, like a little girl. Like her voice when she was small and had the flu, and her mother had tended to her.

 _Mom… Mommy…_

But she soldiered on. "Randy… I-I'm trying, I am, but it _hurts_ s-so much. And I'm c-cold." She felt a tear roll slowly down her cheek.

"P-please, Randy. I'm sleepy…" She wanted to close her eyes, _just for a second_ … but she wouldn't, she couldn't, she refused. Not until she got an answer.

"Please, let me go."

It wasn't like the last time; there was no voice. But a feeling came over her: that it was okay, that she could stop fighting at last, that she could rest.

It would have to be enough. Sidney relaxed, for the first time in twenty long years. The pain faded as she did so. She felt warm and comfortable and sleepy, like she was wrapped up in a soft blanket. Her vision started to fade.

As she fell asleep for the last time, Sidney wondered if she'd really heard him, five years ago, close to death in a hospital bed, or if her mind had only given her what she'd needed to hear. She wondered if he still loved her, after everything. And as she closed her eyes, she wished for one final piece of luck.

Sidney Prescott slipped into the darkness, where, with luck, he'd be waiting for her.

 **THE END**


End file.
